


With You In Any Water

by Rubynye



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-14
Updated: 2010-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gets into and out of trouble with some help from his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With You In Any Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jouissant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/gifts).



> Written for [](http://jouissant.livejournal.com/profile)[**jouissant**](http://jouissant.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/happy_trekmas/profile)[**happy_trekmas**](http://community.livejournal.com/happy_trekmas/) Exchange.  
>  Title from Rudyard Kipling's poem "The Thousandth Man".

Jim steps through the swinging bathroom doors just in time to hear Gaila say, cool and clear despite the Saturday night hubbub, "Get away from me." She's not where he left her by the bar -- no, there's her red boot, turning as she shifts away from the three asshole townies crowding her against it. All Jim can see are heads and jackets and the tense tilt of Gaila's boot, and half the fucking room between them.

Every muscle tightens towards a leap but Jim can't let himself run, not in a crowd like this. He stretches his stride, dodging and weaving and muttering apologies; the bartender's got her comm in hand, halfway to her ear, but Jim flashes her a wink and a grin as he passes her and she smiles back, her wrist relaxing, good. Plans flicker through his mind as he wriggles and trots his way over; a public disturbance won't look good on his record, especially considering who he used to be before Pike got him into the Academy.

But Asshole #1's arm moves, his hidden hand's location confirmed when Gaila's leg turns and straightens, and Jim may be studying diplomacy but he knows his way around a barfight. Gaila snaps, "Don't touch me," and the three just snigger; when they lean even closer she crisply tells them, "This is your last warning," and Jim warms deep inside underneath the surging adrenaline. She could probably take them on herself, and it'd be a thing of beauty to watch, but he can be more help than just an appreciative audience.

He arrives just as Asshole #2 says, "What do you think, she taste like spinach or- _urk_!" Jim cuts him off with two jabs to the kidneys and a crack to the jaw that sends him reeling and his flanking friends spinning around, peeling back from Gaila. The way her stress-lined face lightens when she spots Jim is only exceeded in awesomeness by the way she slams her heel into the side of #3's knee. Jim laughs, liquid fire in his veins, and knocks #1 backwards half over the bar.

Gaila shrieks gleefully as she punches, "Aah! Aah! Aah!" in time with her fists drumming into #3's face. The rest of the room erupts in cries and shouts as people notice their little bubble of violence, and a couple reinforcements come charging in. Jim keeps #3 down with a kick, hops over him and slams into #4 as #5 swears in falsetto shock higher than Gaila's shriek of focused rage. Jim didn't see what she did, he's still too busy ducking and punching and #4's got a mean snarl and long arms, but #5's just about screaming so it must've been good and nasty.

Jim's uppercut staggers #4 back and two more punches take him down, the rest lie scattered around their feet, and victory sings hectic and glorious in Jim's blood. Panting, he turns to give Gaila a grin, and feels movement back at his 7-o-clock just as her shining eyes go wide, her lips parting. Jim spins towards it, fists up, but #1's swinging a chair into the side of his head and he can't quite duck before everything explodes into meteors, pain and darkness.

*** * ***

"Jim!" Gaila screams but it's too late, the thug who first accosted her breaks a chair across Jim's head and he falls bonelessly against the bar. She wants to catch him as he slides down, to see how he's hurt, but the thug's approaching with a broken stick in his hand and a grin as foul as Jim's is bright.

His friends are all down, the room's a sea of glittering eyes, no one else steps forward. Gaila can do this. She breathes down to her center, sweeping her hand along the bar, finding a glass as the thug staggers forward another step. He's hurt worse than he realizes, and she lets him lurch into arm's reach before she swings the glass and its contents into his eyes.

He can't dodge it any better than Jim could, and while he's spluttering and blinded she punches him in the ear with all her strength, impact vibrating through her wrist. He stumbles, folding over, and she rams her knee up into his chin, sending him flying backwards as bonelessly as Jim fell.

There's no time for triumph, though, not when the crowd wavers between shock and revenge and her only friend here is sprawled on the floor bleeding. "Jim," she says into his ear as she crouches, and drags his arm, limp and heavy, across her shoulders. He slumps against her, murmuring a dazed tumble of vowels, and she can't do this, she can't carry him by herself, panic jerks in her chest. "Jim, _get up_ ," as she pushes up with her thighs, wobbling under his weight, knowing if she falls to her knees they'll be finished.

She could escape without him, she thinks briefly. He came to her aid, she remembers just as quickly.

" _I'm not leaving you here, get up_!" she pants.

Jim grunts, "Hunh," pawing at the floor, groping at the side of the bar, and shoves himself up enough for Gaila to heave them to their feet. She gasps under his weight against her, her fingers tighten around his wrist and on his ribs but he's still sliding in her grip.

A man steps from the crowd but his face is in shadow and Gaila's learned to trust the voice inside her when it says, _run_. "Jim, _move_ ," Gaila groans, her teeth against his ear, and his head jerks upwards just a little, his dragging foot takes some weight.

"Yuh," Jim mumbles, neck flexing and head bobbing, but he gets legs underneath him and Gaila's out of breath. Her lungs aching, she throws herself towards the door, steering his staggering body, and drags him using all her mass and strength, one stumbling step, two, three. " _Yes,_ " she pants each time her foot thuds against the ground. " _Yes, yes, move._ " Someone shouts and she can't hear their words over the pounding in her ears, she lurches harder and knocks the door open with her shoulder, swinging it wide.

Cool evening air swallows them like water, washing away the boozy, protein-and-salt warmth of the bar. Gaila drags Jim another desperate step, but he trips and lurches and they totter at a run for another four paces before he falls.

She could let him go, she thinks briefly, but she falls with him, wincing as the rough pavement rises to slam into her knees, keeping Jim from falling all the way. He's gasping too, barely managing to clutch her shoulder, but she has to let go to rummage her hip pocket for her comm, tilting to keep him from sliding from her hold. There are voices behind the swinging door, and a distant mechanical wail down the street rises in pitch and volume like a fire or breach alert --

 _Sirens,_ Gaila remembers, thumbing the comm desperately, her fingers sore and clumsy as she tries to shift her grip. The introductory Academy briefing cited them as the police's auditory signal; Jim described them as a bad development in almost any situation. Gaila squeezes the inflexible comm in her aching fingers, willing the call to reach a live friend.

"Gaila?" she hears Pavel exclaim, and wilts with relief, almost tipping over under Jim's slumping weight. "It is good to hear from you but I am scheduled in Transport Lab tonight -- "

"Good," she gasps, cutting him off with necessary impoliteness. "Good, can you lock onto my comm signal and beam two there?"

"Beam you here?" The sirens creep closer, the night air pours damp and chill around them. "But you are in San Francisco still, and tonight I really cannot go --"

"I need your help," Gaila makes herself say, a more undefended statement than she likes, but this is supposed to be a kinder world. Or so she's been told, she thinks as Jim snuffles wetly, sinking centimeter by centimeter against her. No one mentioned the pustules-on-legs who see her as nothing but a serving of green flesh, and only Jim warned her that Earth too has those who would attack someone as readily as look at them.

Pavel sucks in a noisy breath while Gaila thinks all this, then answers her, "Ah, I see. Stand by for transport." The door creaks open behind them, voices spilling out of the bar, and Gaila bites her lip on useless pleas to hurry. "Energizing in five, four, three..."

The whirling lights rise around them and someone curses behind them. Jim's head shifts on her shoulder and he just manages to mumble, "Why're you yelling in Orion?" before the street vanishes in a flare of white.

*** * ***

Leonard's running across campus at a steady jog, pounding the blameless grass as he lugs his medkit and fumes and runs. How Jim and Gaila ended up in the Astrophysics building is beyond him, when their plan was to head off-campus tonight, and he's got no earthly idea why some chirpy Slavic-accented _child_ called him away from his well-deserved post-study nightcap and down to the Transporter Laboratory.

Leonard fervently hopes no one was screwing around with one of _those_ infernal things, as he ducks between shadowed buildings and tries not to attract Security's attention. He hasn't even had the module on transporter accidents yet, though he's got enough medical experience, let alone sense, to know that for most of them the treatment consists mainly of prayer. The Russian kid assured him the problem was nothing of the sort but Leonard never knows what to expect when Jim's involved.

In the door, down the elevator, third on the left. Leonard pokes the code into the touchpad and the door opens. "Hello, Doctor, in here," says the weedy curly-topped kid waiting for him, and Leonard nods and ducks through the doorway.

Jim's on the left transport pad, Gaila kneeling beside him looking rumpled and worried. Leonard flicks his gaze over her as she lifts her head; she shakes it, her eyes wide, those auburn curls tumbling around her shoulders, and as Leonard reaches them he sees the contusions all down the side of Jim's face, smeared with blood. "Hey, Bones," Jim mumbles, his hand flopping with no more than its usual joints but showing bruised knuckles, and Leonard doesn't need whatever asinine explanation he's about to give.

"Shut up and lie still," Leonard snaps as he drops to his knees too, hand and tricorder out. "Gaila, what happened this time?"

"We got in a fight," she reports, and that much is obvious, but Leonard doesn't have time for an eyeroll as he checks Jim over and Jim smiles blearily under his hands but miraculously doesn't move. "We won, but one of the assailants broke a chair over Jim's head."

"That poor chair." Finding no brain lesions or soft tissue trauma, Leonard puts down the tricorder and skims his hands quickly down Jim's sides, where he can feel hot spots but nothing urgent, and Jim doesn't flinch away from his touch. "How are you doing there, Miss Gaila?" He glances up at her as he reaches for Jim's head again, palpating his neck as Jim tightens his hand on hers, concentrating to feel the way Jim winces when he's distracted from being stoic.

Gaila looks unhurt, just a little disheveled, maybe a scrape on her knee, but -- Leonard looks closer, and sees the redness edging her eyes, the sore tear tracks down her cheeks before she looks away. "I'm sorry," she says to her hand in Jim's, and both he and the kid bouncing in the doorway make the same questioning sound of protest, just an octave apart. "It was my fight, this is my fault."

"What?" Leonard lets his hands move almost without his conscious control, wiping and bandaging and pressing down when Jim tries to jerk upright. "Stay _still_ , kid. Gaila, what are you telling me?"

She lifts her head, looking at him with bleak blue eyes. "They harassed me for being visibly not Terran, and Jim came to help me. That's how he got hurt."

"Is not your fault," cries the kid at the door, voice guttural and sharp, as Leonard mutters, "Sons of bitches," and Jim tenses under his hand. Gaila's eyes flare even wider and Leonard shakes his head on a pulse of alarm as the words jam in his mouth. "No, no," he manages to spit out, "Curlytop back there--"

"Chekov, Pavel Andreievich," the kid puts in.

"Chekov's right," Leonard tells her. "I'm sorry some xenophobic assholes hassled you, Gaila. We're not -- we're not supposed to be like that, not anymore, not here. This isn't your fault at all." Gaila looks down again, nodding as she presses her free hand to her eyes, but some of the tension eases from her shoulders.

"See," Jim mutters, "trust Bones, he's a doctor." Leonard almost rolls his eyes at that unnecessary piece of babble until he sees Gaila's smile unfurl, lopsided and wavering but real. Jim chuckles thickly and clutches at Leonard's forearm, and he consciously scowls as he looks down. He can't let Jim think he's going soft, after all.

Jim smiles up at Leonard from under the bandage, brilliant eyes still a little unfocused but at least his pupils are equally sized. "Hey Bones," he slurs as his fingers brand the crook of Leonard's elbow, "Thanks for comin' down here."

"What, and miss yet another thrilling opportunity to patch you up? With the added delight of spending my next twenty-four hours keeping an eye on that concussion?" Jim just grins, broad and bright, and Leonard has to keep his mouth from twisting into an answering smile. "C'mon, kid, let's get you home. Hey, Chekov?" Leonard turns as the kid bounds up like a long-legged puppy. "Can you get us a hovercab for three?"

"No need when I can transport you!" Chekov offers, throwing his arms wide as he smiles ear-to-ear invitation.

Leonard shudders. That's all he'd need to finish up his evening, getting his molecules unzipped and scrambled by some child whose voice most likely broke only last week. "Thanks but no thanks, kid. A cab's fine." Turning back to his patient-cum-roommate-cum -best-friend, Leonard says, "Sit up now, slow and easy," as he helps lever Jim up off the floor.

"Ouch," Jim agrees cheerfully, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he looks at Gaila. "Thank you too, G," he murmurs, and she traces his cheek with her fingers. Leonard finally indulges in that eyeroll he's been wanting since this started, and when he's done Jim and Gaila are still staring into each other's eyes. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

Gaila's whole face brightens, eyebrows and cheeks and smile and eyes, and it's a damn pretty sight to see despite their ridiculousness. "I could say the same thing," she tells Jim.

Chekov actually coos behind Leonard, so he shoves a hand between them before stronger measures can be needed. "No kissing, it's medically contraindicated."

"Cockblock," Jim answers, voice warm and fond, and leans extra-heavily on Leonard as they heave him to his feet.

*** * ***

When Jim walks into Tucker Hall Lounge he spots Bones and Gaila immediately, sitting together in a worried huddle, but he doesn't go over to them. It's more fun to make himself wait for it, lingering near the door, until they look over and see him; Bones jerks upright like he's been poked and Gaila brightens like a lamp full of sweet light. Jim ambles over then, weaving between the tables and chairs, enjoying the easy looseness of relief.

Bones gives Jim a Level 2 frown, one eyebrow propped high above a glare that Jim physically cannot resist answering with a broad grin. "That's some swagger for a man coming back from being called on the carpet," he says as he scoots over, patting the couch beside him. "How'd you sweet-talk your way out of trouble this time?"

"Did you?" Gaila asks, wiggling sinuously to make room for Jim, and he could watch her do that all day. "Captain Pike --"

"Yeah, what did he say to you?" As Jim asks he drops himself between them with an artful 'whump', throwing his arms out across the back of the sofa; Bones hunches forward, elbow on knee, and Gaila tosses her head back a little so her curls brush his sleeve. "You can tell me now, right?"

Gaila nods, leaning lightly against his side. "He only gave me two demerits." As Jim ostensibly pays all his attention to her, Bones starts sitting up again. "He said he laid the majority of the responsibility for the incident on the attackers, and on you." She dimples ruefully, shaking her head. "I've been worried about that, I want you to know. It's just that Captain Pike's so attractive when he's stern."

"He is, isn't he?" Jim can _hear_ Bones's eyes rolling, like they're making the same tiny whoosh-whoosh of modern doors. "Grumpy looks good on him. Almost as hot as on Bones here," whose shoulders jerk right up off Jim's arm as he harrumphs, skewing himself around to face Jim.

"I just hope you paid some mind to what your longsuffering advisor was saying while you ogled him." Jim watches Bones's forehead crease above those billowing eyebrows and his big capable hand slice the air, and grins until he gets that eyeroll and an exasperated sigh as a bonus. "Do you even hear the words coming out of my mouth?"

"Loud and clear," Jim sits up a little, and Gaila leans further into his shoulder. "All right, boys and girls. Once upon a time there was a cadet --"

"Oh for God's sake," Bones mutters as Gaila giggles.

"--who helped the most gorgeous, valiant redhead he's ever seen beat up some assholes in a bar." She smiles, blushing purple. "But one of them cold-cocked him with a chair. Pike was pretty merciless about that, by the way. I think he was personally insulted that a Starfleet cadet let a townie get the drop on me like that." Bones snorts. "And he thinks I should've tried to defuse the situation by talking those assholes down."

"Considering that you're in _command track_ currently taking _a course in diplomacy_ ," Bones puts in, voice landing heavily on the key phrases, "why would he think a thing like that?"

Gaila shrugs, her smile fading. Jim gives Bones a sharp sideways glance, mostly for making her doubt herself, and him. "The situation had gone beyond diplomacy, which I pointed out to the Captain and all. He got all smug in his laugh lines and said he knew -- he's got the bar's security footage. By the way, you look _awesome_ in it, Gaila. I could watch you take those guys down all day."

She giggles again, with dimples. Score. "Thank you, Jim. It was... cathartic," she concludes, a distant thought clouding her eyes.

Jim's thinking of something glib enough to make them shine again when Bones reaches over to touch her hand, clenched up into a fist on her knee. "I'd expect it was," he tells her, voice soft as a pillow, much more gentle than Jim usually hears from him. "But it's probably better for you if you use a punching bag." His voice sharpens back into familiar territory as he waves to Jim with, "I'd offer you this one but his doctor says he needs to avoid head trauma for the next while, unless he wants his brain to swell up and leak like a sponge." He leans in across Jim, and they edge in together nice and close as Bones stage-whispers, "Although, between you and me, the kid doesn't really use it anyway."

Jim roars a laugh, listening to Gaila laugh with him as she rocks back against his side, and smacks Bones's shoulder to help him tamp down that smile peeking out at the corner of his mouth. "You know you're awestruck by my awesome mental prowess," he informs Bones, watching Gaila giggle and bounce down to calmness as he continues the story. "I've got to admit, I'm a little in awe of Pike's. He got the bar owners to agree not to press charges, not least by pointing out the insult to and assault upon an extraplanetary Federation citizen." Gaila blinks, looking a little surprised anyone cares, and Jim once again swears to himself he'll get her to take it for granted that she belongs here. "He commended me for not leaving you in the lurch," he winds up, basking in her smile, "and I told him that it was no less than my duty as a Starfleet cadet and my pleasure as your friend."

"...and?" Bones prompts, slicing through the bullshit, which Jim will never ever tell him is one of the reasons he keeps him around.

Jim rolls his eyes, and informs the ceiling high above them, "And if I ever get into another violent altercation during my time as a cadet he won't save me even if he can -- I'll end up with the mark on my record, restricted to campus and manually scrubbing bathrooms for the rest of the term."

"Well that's good," Bones says with satisfaction, and Jim gives him another sideways glare. "So you'll stay out of barfights, then, and not die of second impact syndrome."

Jim huffs dramatically, just to make Bones smile on the side of his face he thinks Jim can't see. "That sounds so _boring_."

Gaila's caught the forehead-furrows, though, and though it's impossible for her not to look pretty Jim doesn't like to see her worried. "Has this damaged his willingness to advise you?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. You know he loves me," Jim tells her, thinking of his one omission that even Bones won't sniff out. She looks up at him, examining his expression, and Jim remembers the one thing Pike said that was true enough to actually hurt, pointing out how irresponsible of him it was to bring Gaila into potential danger for no good reason and to make Bones fix him up off the record.

'You need to temper your adventurousness with judgement,' Pike told Jim, that stern gaze burning into him. 'You have good friends, Kirk, don't squander their goodwill.'

Gaila smiles again, her shiny lipstick catching the light, and Jim lets her capture all of his attention as she says, "This Friday, after my Antimatter Systems project's due -- Pavel was talking about a concert then, although I forget what kind of music."

"We definitely owe Chekov," Jim agrees. "Do you remember, sitting or standing?"

"It had better be sedate and wholesome," Bones puts in. "You're not dragging that kid through some slam pit, he's what, all of twelve?"

Gaila sticks out her rounded pink tongue, a Terran gesture that Jim's really enjoyed seeing her adopt. "He's older than that and you know it. Come on, I want to look at the noticeboard and get something to eat." She bounces up, which is always a pleasure to watch. "You're coming with me, aren't you?

Jim plants his feet and stands straight up, hauling Bones up with him. Bones doesn't even dignify that with a comment, just a magnificently pissy huff, and Jim laughs and slings a comfortable arm each across his back and around Gaila's shoulders, pulling them both close, the cranky doctor he can always depend on and the girl with every reason to doubt who trusts him. He'll find another way to beat the _Kobayashi Maru,_ he thinks as he nuzzles into Gaila's hair and says, "Of course, G, what are friends for?"


End file.
